Picture Perfect
by CassanderRoshack
Summary: John is rooting around through old things when he suddenly finds a box full of pictures of Sherlock from when he was younger. When questioning Sherlock... something happens. Edited by WrittenFIRES on AO3


"Sherlock, what the Hell is this?" John asked as he held up a picture of said man with slicked back hair. He was flipping off the camera man while smoking a cigarette in biker clothing.

Sherlock turned his head from across the room to appraise the picture; eyes studying it blankly. "That? Nothing," he drawled disinterestedly.

The other man raised an eyebrow and shifted his grip on a box. John picked another picture out and examined it before exclaiming, "You were a blond!?" The doctor paused at the photo of a man evilly eyeing the camera man with a cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. A surfboard was held tightly in his hand. "You surfed?!"

Sherlock stood abruptly and strode over to John to snatch the box of pictures out of his reach. "Did your parents never teach you that it was rude to go through people's things?"

John's jaw dropped. "I thought it was Mrs. Hudson's!" he protested. He reached around Sherlock's shoulder to snatch up another picture. This time, it was a younger Sherlock with a military uniform on. "What's this?"

Sherlock frowned and elbowed John to push him away a bit; drawing the box closer to himself. "Watson! They are nothing- give that here!"

John gripped the picture and jumped back a few feet. "Clearly they are something!" He was very nimble for being so short.

"Why would you need to know?" Sherlock placed the box back on the table then turned curtly to face John; staring him down. His eyes narrowed as he slowly offered his hand. "I said: give it here."

"Because we've worked together for nearly five years! You've never told me once that you liked surfing or anything else. You were even in the military! As what? A consulting soldier?" He moved away again; knowing he was pushing his luck.

Dropping his hand, Sherlock took a deep breath before taking calculated steps after John. "Hardly. Me? Fighting for Queen and Country?" He scoffed. "I have never surfed in my life. Clearly you can deduce what those photos are. It's quite obvious."

John smiled. "You are far too young to be working cases. What are you? Sixteen with the board? Eighteen in the biker's jacket? Maybe twenty-one in the platoon?" He chuckled and jumped over the chair he usually sat in; fearing Sherlock might make a break for him. "Give it up then."

His jaw clenched before he forced it to relax. His face remained neutral as he analyzed all of John's escape routes should he need to take him down. "What would you like me to say in order for you to give me that photograph?" Sherlock was hoping to catch him off-guard.

"Oh nothing, just tell me what you were really doing." John smiled. He had realized what was going on and had begun new escape routes as he talked. "Maybe Mycroft will tell me. He mentioned about something to do with... a pirate?"

Sherlock paused his mental calibrations to instead zone in a glare on John- unwavering. Mycroft would pay dearly for flapping his gums. "I was a model." He admitted blandly; as if talking about the weather. "Happy?"

John's mouth dropped open but he quickly shut it. He had not been expecting that, honestly. His mind was running a mile a minute as he repeated incredulously, "A model?"

Sherlock smirked at his stunned flat-mate while making his way toward him in order to attempt snagging the photograph. "Yes, John. That is what I said."

The other man regained life suddenly and moved further away. "Whoa, you were a model!? That's something! No wonder you're pretty well off!" He chuckled before choosing one of the new escape routes and taking it. The picture still held protectively in his hands. John would not admit it, but the photograph was rather sexy.

Sherlock exhaled in exasperation and his muscles tensed when he recognized the warning signs of John attempting to flee. He sprung after him; long legs compensating for John's headstart. "Yes. Mother's idea. I meant to please her by following through with it." He explained as he tried to corner the older man.

John changed direction at the last minute and slid into the kitchen to put a table between them. He continued grinning; loving he was getting all of this out of him. "Mother? Why would she want her darling boy to show off for other people at that age?"

Sherlock was not anticipating John's cleverness and had a bit of trouble making the change in direction- slowing him down. He jolted to a halt, straightening up as he stared him down, body going completely still and face neutral. That question... it made him withdraw almost immediately. John was straying into uncharted territory against Sherlock's will, so he refused to offer up a response.

John instantly noticed Sherlock's face pale significantly. His smile faded and he set the picture down on the table. "Sorry, here." He slid it to him since Mrs. Hudson had cleared off the table yesterday. Swallowing anxiously, he went to him. "Are you all right?"

His nod was curt as he accepted the photograph. He viewed it briefly before his lips turned down at the corners. When he looked up, John was suddenly closer; their previous playing forgotten. "Quite." The lie slid off his tongue with a tone devoid of emotion and he turned away from John. Returning to the living room to put away the photo and hide the box. Or preferably burn it so situations like this did not occur again.

John worked his jaw for a moment before repeating, "I'm sorry..." This time the apology was delivered more softly.

"It is fine, John." Sherlock assured as he closed the box; head tilted down to look it over. Those pictures... he sighed. His eyes closed as he began the battle of filing away those memories far back into his mind again. "Fine."

John came up behind him and stopped by Sherlock's side to drop a hand on his shoulder. "I'll put it back."

Sherlock paused mid-action- almost startled by the physical touch- and slid away, snatching up the box as he went. "Unnecessary. I will do it." He did not want John to know where it was. He did not want anyone to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John sulked continuously throughout the day. He felt terrible about what he did now and could not think of how to mend the damage. Sherlock was blatantly ignoring the earlier incident as he did his best not to contemplate old memories. The memories that led to his status as an addict, at least. It was difficult, considering John was still caught up over it. Causing the tension in the house to increase twofold after he ventured back from the part of the flat where he hid the box. Currently, he was sprawled across the couch; eyes closed and the fingers of his left hand tapping against the floor rhythmically.

"Would you like to borrow my gun?" John asked suddenly. He had just finished rereading the same paragraph of his book for the fifth time.

Sherlock's eyes blinked open to stare at the ceiling as he processed the offer. "Whatever for?"

The smaller man tried again to read the paragraph and actually retain it this time. "I know you like to shoot it when you want to get your mind off things," he answered with a shrug.

"I will have to decline for once." Sherlock stretched languidly before sitting up; limbs arranging themselves naturally into a casual but graceful array. He was still wearing his usual outfit of trousers, dress shirt (top buttons undone, of course) and blazer- minus his shoes- rather than his dressing gown and pajamas. He looked around the room lazily before resting his gaze on John, who was reading. Except he had not heard the page turn for the past five minutes, so he was obviously getting nowhere. "John. If what occurred before is bothering you still, do not let it."

"I upset you Sherlock because I was being a prat. It was rude and I should have learned by now that you don't talk about your family for a reason." John muttered as he shifted in his seat and closed the book. He suddenly realized that left him with nothing to do and picked it up again.

"You should have." Sherlock nodded in agreement. "What is done is done." He stood from the couch and strode over to the sandy-haired man to snatch the book out of his hands. He then threw it over his shoulder; tired of John's failed attempts at reading such petty literature.

"All is forgiven." John looked at him with wide, apologetic eyes. "Right." He watched the book go flying and hoped it did not fall into the acid experiment of Sherlock's in the kitchen.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He could practically read John's thoughts by the worried glance he was casting in the direction of the literature. "It's safe. It slid underneath the table. Though it deserves to be chemically burned; Hemingwell was terrible at citing his work." John kept silent and watched him. He did not say any of the multitude of thoughts running through his mind at the moment. The consulting detective met John's gaze full on; completely content to just observe John but he knew something was still bothering the man. "John..."

John looked up and almost got lost in the deep gaze directed his way. 'Why couldn't I just have left things alone? I got greedy... No one knows anything about him and like Hell he lets me in. Even after five years...' he internally mourned.

Sherlock sighed in frustration when he was met with silence and rose to his feet. They fell naturally into pacing back and forth across the living room while his fingers ran through his dark curls as he contemplated what to do. This was not his forte and he did not know how to fix all that had happened.

John immediately backed-tracked. "Sorry... I'll just... leave you to think or something..." He stood and moved to leave. He thought his actions were making the other angry; knowing Sherlock could only take so much of people.

"No!" Said man cried out in frustration. He was angry at himself for not knowing what to do. Stepping forward and grabbing hold of John's wrist, he tugged him back. "No. Don't leave."

John nearly jumped out of his skin as Sherlock's cold hand wrapped around his wrist. He stopped and looked up at him; almost frightened. He was a soldier, but the consulting detective's speed still managed to shock the Hell out of him. "Okay..." he conceded softly.

Sherlock groaned when he noted the slight fright in John's expression. His hand immediately dropped the arm and he took a deep breath. "I don't know what to say to make this go away. I don't want us to be like this." He stepped forward- acting upon a whim and wrapping his arms around John- and mirrored what people did in those crap telly shows when they were apologizing.

John was visibly stunned but returned the tight embrace. This was odd. "You've been watching telly too much," he chuckled. "It's fine; just know that it will not happen again."

Again, physical touching. It was unfamiliar; those arms hugging him tight. Yet he did his best to mimic them. He had done it multiple times for pure manipulation but... he had never actually done it to comfort. He tilted his head down and pressed his cheek against the short-cropped hair. "You were curious. It is only natural after finding out that your psychopath flat-mate was a model." He smirked. "A highly attractive model, if I do say so myself."

John briefly smiled against his chest. "You aren't a psychopath. You're a highly functioning sociopath." He laughed, "I agree with the statement though. You were and still are."

Sherlock inhaled through his nose. Breathing John's scent and filing it away to analyze later. New detergent? "You think I am attractive?" His smirk deepened while his voice dropped an octave lower.

John pulled back to look at him. "Yes, of course. You're very attractive- uh... obviously."

He loosened his hold on John and moved back a bit as well to look down at him properly but did not release the other entirely yet. His brow raised as his head tilted a bit to study the doctor's face. His own smug expression seemed to be a permanent fixture for the moment. "I see." He grinned as he finally let John out of the hug and moved away to flop down onto the couch gracefully, as per usual. He stared at his flat-mate cheekily and quipped, "I have been told that a lot, as you can imagine. Though it is far more flattering when you say it. Curious."

He shrugged; relieved things seemed to be returning to normal for the most part. John grinned. "Curious? You are good looking so it doesn't surprise me at all." The smaller man glanced around the room wondering what he should do now.

"Ah, but it is curious how I don't care for anyone's opinion but yours." Sherlock had realized that from the very beginning of their friendship. John had been different and praised his deductive skills rather than putting him down about it. Five years later and he still managed to surprise him. "It is a shame that you did not manage to go through the whole box. There are some shots from some very... interesting photo shoots."

John raised his eyebrows and found the book underneath the table. "Hah..." A chuckle slipped free as he smiled. "Don't worry about it. I think I can leave my imagination to run wild." He immediately wanted to slap himself for saying it.

Sherlock sat up a little straighter at that; watching John. "What is your imagination coming up with now, hm?"

John cleared his throat and shrugged. "I don't have anything to base it on..."

Sherlock hummed lightly; thinking back to very specific points in time in order not to think about that period of his life in too broad of a context. "There had been a situation in which I was hired to pose for a calendar. It was borderline licentious considering it was geared toward lonely army base women." He frowned as he remembered. "Mycroft set that one up as a joke and tricked me into it."

John fumbled with his book from underneath the table and tried very hard not to imagine that because he knew his body would almost instantly betray him. "Oh... Did you ever... enjoy it...?" He cleared his throat. However, the fumbling and discomfort was duly noted by the other.

"It was... unsatisfactory at times though I was very entertained by the way people would react just from a silly photograph." He shifted into a more comfortable position. "I do not miss the salacious women after that calendar was released."

"Oh..." John sat back down and crossed his legs in an effort to hide the evidence of his thought pattern. "Silly photographs..."

Sherlock eyed John as he tried to process why the blogger was acting uncomfortable. An idea popped into his mind and he decided to experiment with it. "Yes. They were very fond of the rifle and briefs look."

John's mouth twisted and he bit his bottom lip. "Well, I love hearing about this but I do believe we should call it a night."

Sherlock contemplated the idea for a moment. "Call it a night?" He had not slept in... forty-nine and a half hours. "We? You. Sleep is boring." Fighting the exhaustion was a normal occurrence for Sherlock. "I would much rather hear what your imagination can come up with."

John was on the brink of screwing him with his eyes from across the room. "Well I don't think that would be... appropriate."

Sherlock stretched out his legs before bringing up his arms to drape them across the back of the couch casually. "Perhaps not, but I am curious. I am very interested."

John licked his lips before softly acquiescing, "You; in dogtags, actually. Bent over and taking a person until they scream out. You have a whip as well and you crack it repeatedly." John felt his pants tighten and quickly looked away.

Oh my. He could see the dilation of John's pupils from where he was sitting, the shifting and the way he could not keep his eyes on him. Sherlock stared intensely at him; caught off-guard by the man's honesty but very, very enamored. "I see. You have put thought into that."

The doctor shifted again before clearing his throat. "No... Just a random thought." John assured quietly. He wondered what Sherlock really would look like in such a position.

Sherlock stood and walked to John; circling his chair slowly as he inspected the man. He was becoming aroused by the situation, suddenly. He stopped once he was directly in front of him and knelt much as he had earlier. Leaning forward to study John's face curiously. "Do you still have your dog tags, John?"

John used the book to cover his lower half from view. "Y-yes... Why?"

Sherlock propped his elbows on the smaller man's knees and adjusted his position so his lips were beside John's ear. "Would you like for me to wear them?"

The object of his desires gulped and looked at him incredulously. "Are you being serious? If you aren't this would be a very cruel joke." John tried to will his raging erection away and did his best to push it down with the book.

Sherlock was borderline inexperienced with anything relating to sexual encounters as Mycroft had so eagerly pointed out in Buckingham Palace so long ago, but of this he was certain. "Yes, of course." He brushed his lips across John's neck. One hand slid up John's thigh to shove the book off and take its place against the erection to show just how serious he was.

John gasped and groaned at the new pressure against his skin. "S-Sherlock..,." His fingernails dug into the chair as he felt his flat-mates breath on his neck.

He was encouraged by John's reaction and kissed up his neck slowly. The hand on that groin squeezing lightly when John said his name.

John swallowed again and leaned back to allow Sherlock more access to the skin of his neck. "You're getting..." he groaned. "...me turned on..."

Sherlock nibbled on the soft skin and hummed lightly at the taste. "I do believe that is the point." He countered; voice deeper and more guttural than normal. John unfroze his hands from the chair and let one slip into Sherlock's hair to knot it, while the other continued making indents in the cushion. Sherlock gasped at the pleasant feeling of his hair being lightly tugged by the fingers threaded through it and paused before touching John's lips tentatively with his own.

John noticed the hesitance. He was gentle as he felt more heat pool into his crotch. The taller man pressed their lips together more firmly to suck softly on John's bottom lip. He sighed contently into the other's mouth and rubbed his palm down the bulge in John's pants before bringing that hand up cradle the back of his neck and draw him in closer.

John pulled his hair a bit more and slipped the other hand underneath his shirt. He almost smiled and enjoyed the taste of the consulting detective's lips. They held the flavor of Sherlock's favorite peppermint tea; the one they had recently purchased. John let his hand skim underneath the shirt to feel smooth pectorals.

Sherlock stilled at the touch on his bare skin. The familiar sensation made him hesitate. Old memories tried to ruin his concentration and he shoved them off by throwing himself into the kiss with more fervor. He was definitely beginning to notice his own erection; which startled him marginally. John had awakened something in him he thought was not possible for someone of his mentality. The hand under his shirt traveled farther up before sliding fingertips down his chest to leave a trail of fire. He took a breath and whispered huskily, "Should we move this to a bedroom? Mrs. Hudson might walk in..."

Sherlock groaned and nipped at John's earlobe. He followed it up with unintelligible noises he hoped sounded like he was agreeing. He was concerned by the fact he felt like he was losing control. Standing shakily, he dragged John up with him and returned his lips to his; forgetting momentarily he needed to actually move. He pressed himself against the other man and pulled on his jumper in a request for John to remove the offending material. The doctor did as the hands demanded and immediately threw the jumper off before pulling the detective closer by what he only referred to as the "purple shirt of sex" in his mind. John bit his lip gently; curbing his eagerness.

Sherlock gasped into the kiss and skimmed hands up John's sides. "B-bedroom." He reiterated aloud before detaching himself from John. He grabbed his hand and practically dragged the man to his bedroom. As soon as they were both inside, he slammed the door closed and pushed John against it to claim. his lips again. His hands explored the newly discovered skin and coaxed out a moan.

"I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget my own name." John whispered; shivering beneath those cool hands as his own unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt. The material was stretched so tight he was surprised they had not burst off already.

Sherlock pressed their pelvises together and rolled his hips. "Fuck, John." The profanity was strange passing his lips but he did not care. He wanted him. Now. His fingers flew to John's pants; undoing his belt, button and zipper in no time at all with nimble musician's fingers. He pushed the trousers down before ridding himself of his own. John would have made a crack about Sherlock being a firefighter from how quickly he had undressed but thought better of it. He could barely breathe he was so aroused. They made quick work of their remaining shirts. Sherlock completely void of any feelings of discomfort at being naked in front of John. He wanted; wanted so badly. He could not wait for John to finish getting his shirt off before he was focusing his attention on the man's neck- needing to touch him.

John felt a shiver run down his spine. He wanted Sherlock just as badly and he moaned again; sounding completely whorish as he ground his hips into Sherlock's. "God, I want you!" Voicing both of their needs and destroying any remaining hesitations.

"J-John!" Sherlock panted as he mimicked the grinding- that feeling was exquisite. His erection throbbed; seeking friction. He stepped back before directing John towards the bed by shoving him backwards onto it. As he climbed on after him, he grinned at John's underwear choice. "Red, John?"

"Well I uh... Didn't expect to be having such a..." He groaned again as Sherlock climbed on top of him. "You weren't even wearing any..." The taller man left open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He nibbled on his collarbone before dropping further to his chest and tasting the skin there.

"Having such a what, John?" Sherlock asked huskily. He propped himself up with one arm and trailed fingers from John's sternum to the waistband of his briefs.

"Having such an unbelievable sex experience that I could almost cum just looking at you." John licked his lips after the rushed sentence. Seeing Sherlock's cock and honestly wanting to let him do terrible things with it.

Sherlock found himself unable to respond. His eyelids became hooded as he peppered kisses down to where his hand rested; body scooting back to settle between John's legs. He sat up and hooked his fingers around the waistband of the briefs before pulling them down. John's lips formed an "O" in response to the action. The material caught on his boner ever so slightly and made it bounce. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath at the sight of that proud erection before wrapping his fingers around the base.

John looked Sherlock up and down. His hairless, pale body one of the sexiest pieces he had ever seen. Like something carved from marble. He released a soft whimper as the man's fingers connected with his cock. It felt heavenly yet almost painful from how hard he was.

Sherlock leaned down and blew gently on the flesh. His eyes flicked up to look at John's face as he closed his lips around his cock. He sucked gently and swirled his tongue around the tip.

The doctor's eyes rolled back into his head as Sherlock's hot mouth encased his dick and he for a moment he could not breathe. "God..." He gasped; hands finding their way back into those brown locks. Sherlock feasted upon the sight John was offering him, cheeks hollowing as he bobbed his head. He was not completely sure what to do- being inexperienced- but he was encouraged he was doing something right by the sounds John made. His hand lavished attention to the portion of John's cock he did not have in his mouth. His own erection twitched at the erotic scene and he hummed in need.

The hums sent sparks up his body and John gasped, "Sherl-lock... gonna..." He continued to suck in air in an effort to keep calm now and not cum in the detective's mouth without warning. "...cum...!" He could not hold it much longer. Sherlock hummed again in response and sucked encouragingly. He experimented with taking in as much of that divine cock into his mouth as possible. John gasped and came into Sherlock's mouth at that; giving a shout that more than likely woke the neighbors. "Damn..."

Observing John come undone was very satisfying to Sherlock and he knew for a fact that- even though the feeling of his cum in his mouth was slightly unpleasant- he would undoubtedly do it again to see that. Unsure, he swallowed before releasing the softening cock and sitting up. A bit breathless and panting as he watched John recover. "Any good?" He asked hesitantly; not completely certain he had done that right.

"V-Very go-od..." John stuttered. 'That may have been the best blow job I've ever had,' he thought and had to take some calming breaths. There were a few drops of cum on Sherlock's lips and it looked absolutely sexual. As someone had once said, "Suddenly, he's the sex."

Sherlock licked his lips; pleased he had done it correctly. His eyes slid closed as he took in deep breaths of his own. The pressure in his own erection was unbearable. He groaned and twitched his hips as his body tried to locate friction again. Cracking his eyes open, Sherlock flushed and gazed hazily at John.

"Let's take care of you..." John whispered. His breath left with a puff of steam they both noticed now they had calmed down somewhat. The room was cold and they were just barely keeping each other warm with their activity.

Sherlock bit his lip as he clambered closer to John. He shifted up to give him a passionate kiss. Pulling away after a few moments, he leaned their foreheads together as his eyes closed again. "P-please." He begged desperately; needing release.

"How do you want me... or do you want me... doing something else?" John asked as he trailed hands on the inside of those thighs but avoided touching the rock hard extension of Sherlock's body.

His hips bucked and he moaned; hands gripping John's shoulders desperately. The virgin sensitivity was driving him practically up the wall. "I.. I ju-ust... please." He could not think straight. He just knew he needed something.

John leaned up and claimed his lips to kiss him with force. "Put it inside me…. Lay down and..." He had never thought he would say this in his life time, "I'll ride you."

Sherlock gasped and pulled away, eyes blown wide as he stared at John, processing the words. The man really had not expected that. He allowed John to ravish his lips- manhandling him briefly to pull him up and switch their positions- fingers raking up the man's back. John chuckled as he straddled Sherlock's hips. He could feel the heat below him and he swallowed. The other man's cock was dripping with pre-cum and he softly whispered, "You know, we forgot the dogtags, but this is by far better than what I had imagined." He propped himself up on his knees and began preparing himself with his fingers. He gasped and looked directly at Sherlock while he did so.

He chuckled throatily as John reminded him of his fantasy. "N-next time." His words promised there definitely would be a next time. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of John fingering himself. A hand curled around his own erection, pumping it slowly, a moan stifled in the back of his throat. "Fuck, John. Y-you're so... so..." His mind went completely blank for once and John smiled gently at him.

"I'll guide you in." He kissed him and rose up a bit to line himself up as he reached between their bodies and grasped Sherlock's erection. Using the other to brush that stroking hand. He was nervous but he did not allow himself to tense up as he relaxed his thighs and descended until he felt the tip of the organ pressing against him. "Can you brace my hips?"

John's teeth worried his lower lip and his eyes squeezed shut as he sank further down. He gasped when the head of Sherlock's shaft eased past the outer ring of muscle. Pausing for a deep breath, he waited for his body to adjust and then sank down until the head was inside of him. The hardest part was over with. Now the initial breaching was complete the rest would be easier. John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. The expression on that angelic face nearly made him lose his common sense. "You're fucking huge.…" John moaned. He bit his lip as he was filled and stretched with Sherlock's throbbing length.

"You're so damned tight," Sherlock countered. He clenched his jaw and drew quick, sharp breaths as the unbelievable pleasure of John's arse squeezing him nearly made him come undone then and there. The smaller man sank all the way down; taking him up to the hilt. For a moment they stayed that way with their quickened breaths intermingling to mimic their joined bodies. Then John kissed Sherlock and slowly began to move. The detective's bright blue eyes were stunned as the other carefully rode his cock. The entire time their gazes remained locked.

His thoughts were broken as John's gripping heat steadily milked him. The doctor moaned his name and Sherlock was overcome with lust and pleasure. He bucked his hips hard to drive his erection in deep and stroke the prostate in passing. John cried out sharply and clutched at his shoulders; the short nails pressing grooves into the skin. The mild pain of it only excited Sherlock more and he uttered a curse as he firmly gripped John's hips.

John howled incoherently as his partner lifted him up and slammed him down again, while bucking upwards at the same time. Retaining some semblance of awareness, Sherlock exerted some control over his thrusts; smoothing them so they were not too sharp or uneven. He rose up his torso a little to give himself room to touch his smaller companion and ran his hands over John's sweating chest and stomach. He watched the doctor's new erection slap against his belly as he took him and he could not resist petting it. John writhed and whimpered. His hands desperately grabbed at any part of Sherlock's body as he rode steadily and firmly. Sherlock watched his dick plunging in and out of John's body and the sight brought him even closer to orgasm.

John's breath hitched as Sherlock's thrusting sex and stroking hand brought him closer to his second peak. He looked up at the detective and saw the way the thick, black lashes were lowered. When he realized Sherlock was watching his shaft thrusting in and out of him, he lost control and arched his back. John hollered his lover's name again as he came in several thick spurts; splattering both Sherlock and himself. The detective closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure as John's body clenched rhythmically around his cock as a result of the orgasm.

Several seconds later, Sherlock came hard into John. He gasped loudly and the eventual result was both of them collapsed in a heap. The smaller man rested his head on the other's chest as he tried to catch his breath. "That… was…"

The other laughed a little. "Amazing? Extraordinary?"

John nodded repeatedly and breathed a content sigh, "Yes."

Sherlock turned away from them and picked up his phone. Before John could ask what he was doing, he put down the phone again and smirked. "The whip is on it's way."


End file.
